


Spitting Distance

by saltandbyrne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Barebacking, Comeplay, Community: spn-masquerade, Dubious Consent, Extremely Underage, Felching, Grooming, Incest, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mentions of John/Dean - Freeform, Multi, Top Dean Winchester/Bottom Sam Winchester, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 17:26:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16141985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandbyrne/pseuds/saltandbyrne
Summary: Written for Round 5 of spn_masquerade for the prompt:John likes to watch his boys fuck, he's practically raised them for it. Ever since they were young, John had been touching them and encouraging them to touch each other. Mostly, he likes to sit back and watch his boys fuck each other while he touches himself, but sometimes he'll enjoy taking a little pleasure for himself from one or both boys as a way to teach a sexual education lesson on how to please him or each other.





	Spitting Distance

**Author's Note:**

> Sam is 11, Dean is 15, John has no redeeming qualities.

 

“Turn him around.”

John licks his lips and leans back against the slatted headboard of his bed.  It’s hardly the most comfortable room they’ve ever rented, but it’s at the long end of a block of empty rooms and the owner hadn’t even made eye contact when John paid him up cash for the week.  He shifts a little, ignoring the creak of the old mattress as he rests one arm behind his head.  In an old undershirt and a worn-out pair of boxers, John sits like a king, a soft smile on his face.

Watching his boys together always puts him in a good mood.

“That’s it, want to see that little dick bounce for me.”

Across the spitting distance between their beds, Dean’s spread flat on his back, acres of honey-tan skin standing out against the dingy white of the sheets.  His freckles glow above the pinks of his cheeks, the way they always do when he’s been working hard.  Sweat beads on his forehead but Dean pays it no mind, intent as he is on Sam sinking down on his cock at a new angle.  At fifteen Dean’s got a dick that would put most grown men to shame, to John’s endless pride and delight.  Sam’s brow furrows in concentration as he seats himself, pushing open just like John taught him.

John’s raised strong boys.  He cups a hand over his own hard cock, savoring the ache in his balls.

The angle’s perfect.  Sam’s doe-legs quiver as he balances himself over Dean’s cock, knees spread over the breadth of Dean’s muscled thighs.  His hands V together between Dean’s legs, coquettish against the peekaboo of his stiff little cock. 

“’Member what that one’s called, Dean?”

“Uh, reverse cowgirl,” Dean answers, smart boy.  His voice is shaky but his rhythm never falters.  From his perch John can just see the fat shine of Dean’s cock when Sam rocks up. 

Eleven’s a lucky number.  Sam’s long and lean all over, getting stronger every day but still babysoft in all the right places.  Two soft lines cross his stomach where he’s straddled over Dean, babyfat that’s clinging to him like dew on a rose. 

“He fucking you good, Sam?”

“Yes, yes, Daddy.” 

Not like John needs an answer.  The peach-pink flush up Sam’s chest, the little peaks of his nipples, the fat of his lip bit between two milk-white teeth – John knows when his boy’s getting fucked the way he should. 

There’s a sharp line down Dean’s thighs where his muscles strain, fucking up into his brother with a beat you could set your goddamn watch to.  When it comes to Sam, willpower has never been Dean’s problem.

“Want you to get him off like we’ve been practicing, Dean.”

The sooner Sam learns he can only come with a cock up his ass, the better.  As with all things, Sam had been harder to bring to hand than Dean.  John had been soft on him, letting him rub himself off while he got used to being touched.  Sometimes the carrot is better than the stick.

“Yes, Daddy.”  The tip of Dean’s tongue darts out between his lips, focus written on every tense line of his body. 

“Feel good, Sammy?”  Dean’s voice is soft, his eyes roving over Sam’s back for the slightest jump of muscle or twitch of pleasure, so intent on Sam the room could catch fire and he’d barely notice.  John’s warm all over with the old voyeur’s thrill of watching his boys. 

Sam nods, that long neck arching as he looks back at Dean.  His breath is ragged, shaking his chest and making his arms tremble as he curls himself for just the right angle.  John can see the snap of his eyes when Dean hits him perfect on the inside. 

“Just like that, Dean, fuck him harder." 

Sam’s little prick bounces against his stomach as Dean pounds up into him.  Dean’s hands brace across the curve of his hips, dug in tight to hold Sam in place, his fingertips almost touching.  Sam’s a slight little thing but he’ll be nice and loose when Dean’s done with him.

“You can do it, Sam,” John whispers, grinding a hand over his own aching cock.  He always waits as long as he can. 

“Dean, m’close, don’t stop don’t stop don’t.”  Sam’s mouth falls open as he goes taut, his arched back a perfect vector to the strain of Dean’s neck where he’s half-lifted off the bed, panting and wide-eyed and gorgeous. 

“Oh, God,” Dean groans, just as Sam’s cock shudders and leaks out a few clear drops.  A few tears are still all that passes for Sam’s load, dripping down to slick up his smooth, hairless balls.  John bites off a “Fuck,” and wraps a hand around his dick. 

“Good boys.” 

John swallows, his throat thick. 

“Want you to finish him off doggy style.”

Dean eyes are only half-open when he looks over at John and gives him a slow nod.  John’s halfway to busting a nut just watching them.  Dean’s discipline is one of his best qualities.

Sam moves like a ragdoll when Dean flips him over and settles behind him.  He’s always more pliant after he comes.  John squeezes the base of his cock and swings his legs off the bed, sitting on the edge.

“He should take you easy now." 

Even freshly-fucked, Sam’s hole clutches up tight at the empty air.  John inches forward, tongue between his teeth as he watches Dean slowly push inside his brother, fat cock splitting him open while Sam whimpers.

“Feels so good, Sammy.”  Dean’s eyes roll back as he sinks home.  The cords of his neck stand out, trembling with effort as he starts to fuck Sam in earnest.

“Need to finish,” Dean huffs, looking to John for permission because even at his most desperate, Dean’s a good boy.

“Fill him up good, Dean, just like I taught you.”

John’s jerking off for real now, stroking himself in time with Dean’s galloping thrusts.  Sam bounces against the bed, his arms splayed forward, nothing but Dean’s firm grip holding him up. 

“Bury it deep, boy, get him good and creamed inside." 

John’s dizzy on his feet but he closes the small space between them to stand next to Dean, his fist flying over his cock as he watches.  Sam’s hole is hot-pink and smooth and stretched out impossibly wide around Dean’s cock, a cock that would split him in half if Sam weren’t so well-trained.  John knows the deep groan Dean makes as well as he knows his own breathing.

“Sammy,” is all Dean says when he comes.

There’s a connection between his boys that John will never touch.  Maybe he’s always known it, maybe that’s what made it so easy for him to bring them up like he did. Dean curls over his brother, endless need written in every muscle of his body, a hunger that John can only understand in theory.  It’s terrifying and beautiful and it gets John’s blood up like nothing else.

John’s hand works over his cock as he knees up next to Dean on the bed.  Dean’s still buried balls-deep in his baby brother, pumping and panting for breath.

“That’s my boy,” John says, throwing his arm over Dean’s shoulder.  Dean comes like a man’s supposed to, long and hard.  He tilts his head onto John’s shoulder, his breath evening out until it’s perfectly timed with Sam’s. 

“Show me how good you did him, Dean.”

Dean’s cock is still throbbing fat when he pulls it out of Sam, leaving behind the ruined mess of Sam’s asshole, white and pink and overflowing.  Dean rubs the head of his dick over Sam’s hole, tucking his seed back inside him as soon as it starts to ooze out.  Dean’s a healthy boy, and even Sam’s well-trained efforts to hold still can’t stop the fat ropes of come leaking out of him. 

“Goddamn, son.”

John gives Dean a soft kiss, right on his throbbing temple.  “Proud of you.”

“Thanks, Daddy.”  Dean melts against him, clearly exhausted but holding himself up anyway, his hands never leaving Sam.

“Hold still, Sam, let Daddy finish.”

Sam’s so tempting like this, fucked open and sweet the way he is after Dean takes care of him.  John could try it, might even manage to fit the whole thing in this time, but he’d learned the hard way with Dean that getting overeager leads to a lot of backpedaling.  Dean’s a big boy but John’s a man.  Forcing himself into Sam’s little body could end in tears, hardly worth it when Dean can take him easy.  They’ve got all week.

With Dean’s warm body next to him and Sam flexing out beneath it, it’s a few quick strokes and John’s bringing himself off onto Sam’s used hole.  What a sight.  John’s chest swells, pleasure coursing through him at his own orgasm and the needy flex of Sam’s hole as he paints another layer of Winchester on him.

“Made a mess, didn’t we?”

He ruffles Dean’s hair, breathes in the good, animal scent of him.  You’re not supposed to have favorites.

“Did good, Sam,” John adds, patting the perk of his ass.  “You want a treat?”

Sam looks back at them, pink lip bit between his teeth.  His cheeks are bright red circles, making him look even younger than his age 

“Want Dean to do it.”  It’s not as churlish as Sam’s usual answers.  He’s always happier when Dean’s taking good care of him.

“Clean him up, Dean.”

Any squeamishness of Dean’s had died years and years ago.  He grins all the way to his eyes and dives for Sam’s ass, tongue dragging up the slick mound of Sam’s taint to catch a fat glob of come.  Dean’s a smooth talker and those lips aren’t put to waste, closing plush over Sam’s hole and sucking so loud John can feel it.  Sam’s a writhing mess, tangling the sheets and grinding back against Dean’s face like a cat in heat. 

John’s balls ache where he cups them, tugging lightly. 

“Let Daddy taste.”

Dean’s a good kisser, always has been.  He opens for John, salty-sweet and body-warm inside.  John licks that filthy mouth, sucks at the lips that can kiss Sam for hours on end, whisper into Sam’s ear when they think he’s asleep.  A lover’s mouth, throbbing where John pulls the fat of Dean’s heartbreaker lip between his teeth. 

Sam’s hands slip between them, wrapping up around Dean’s shoulders and stealing a kiss for himself.  Wedged between them, Sam tucks himself against Dean’s chest and sighs when John presses a kiss to his neck.

“You boys take a little nap, I’m gonna grab a beer.”

John eases off the bed, shaking off his groggy head and smiling at the sweet sight of Sam tucked up against his big brother.  Most boys their age fight like junkyard dogs, but Sam’s smile for Dean is downright angelic.  Dean barely looks up when John offers him a sip of his beer, a treat he’s surely earned.   

“Thank you, Daddy.”

Dean smiles at John before looking down at Sam, who’s already dozed off and half-drooling on Dean’s chest.

“Sammy’s tired, Daddy, maybe … maybe we can just give him a rest for a while?” 

Dean licks his lips, leaving them shining pink as he looks up at John.

“I can take care of you.”

John smiles and drains his beer.  He’s raised good boys.


End file.
